Old Friends
by Crazy Elleth
Summary: Song-fic. Just a little idea I had while listening to SG. Non-slash.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize as Star Trek and I don't own the song. They are owned by Paramount and Simon and Garfunkle respectively.

Old friends, old friends, Sat on the park bench like bookends 

_A newspaper blown through the grass_

_Falls on the round toes_

_Of the high shoes of the old friends_

                My grandfather told me this story, about how he saw Ambassador Spock and his great-uncle, my great-great-great uncle, Leonard McCoy, talking in a park. It was in the winter of 2293, people were still getting over the death of Admiral Kirk, when he went for a walk, just before sunset.

                The park was almost deserted, except for him and the two men. He said that at first he didn't recognize them, since it had been so long since he had even seen his uncle and you don't expect _Spock_ to be sitting in a park, with McCoy, in a companionable silence.

Old friends, winter companions, the old men 

_Lost in their overcoats, waiting in the sunset_

_The sounds of the city sifting through the trees_

_Settles like dust on the shoulders of the old friends_

                They sat that way while the sunset. Suddenly, Spock said, "The sunset is aesthetically pleasing, is it not?"

                McCoy said, "It is beautiful, but I don't think you called me out here just to talk about how nice looking the sunset is." Then, in a quieter tone, he said, "Why did you call me out." Silence, then, "It's about Jim, isn't it?"

                There was more silence, Spock finally said, "I feel I should have been there. It may be illogical, but I feel I could have changed the outcome. I should have been there. It should have been me."

                "Spock, I know what you mean. Oh, don't give me that eyebrow lift, Spock! I've had days where I've felt I should have been there." Then he reached over and laid a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder, and said, "Believe me, I've been there."

                Surprisingly, Spock didn't try to move away from the touch. They sat that way for several minutes, then Spock said, "Tomorrow, I am leaving Earth."

                McCoy nodded, and said, "Remember this Spock, I'll always be there for you. No mention of our past disagreements at all. I'll be there. It's what Jim would've wanted, us being friends."

                Spock nodded, "I will remember, Doctor." Then both got up and went their separate ways.

_Can you imagine us years from today,_

_Sharing a park bench quietly_

How terribly strange to be seventy 

                Yesterday, Ambassador Spock died. All the newspapers are full of it. Today, I have been called to the hospital where Uncle Leonard, the oldest living human alive, is. I've spent a lot of time with him and he's told me something about his time on the Enterprise. I've always wanted to hear more, but there are certain subjects he always avoids.

                When I arrived, the person assigned to him said, "Thank goodness you came when you did. It's almost time."

                I felt saddened. I would miss the old man, and being only remotely related to him, I probably wouldn't get anything. His own grandchildren only visited him once a year, to try to work their way into his good graces so they would get the lion's share of his money. I wish I had something to remind me of him once he died.

                When I got to his room he was there, waiting for me. He said, "I was wondering when you'd get here, Matt."

                I looked around, I was the only one there. "Where are the others. Your grandchildren."

                He sniffed in scorn at the mention of his descendents, "Those boot-licking fools? I didn't want _them_. You've spent more time with me than all of them put together. I wanted _you_ here."

                We talked for about an hour. Uncle Leonard said, "It's close to the time. Listen, I've kept my journals near me, in the bedside stand. I want you to have them. I also have a letter for you." He pulled it out and handed it to me. "Read it after." I nodded, then his eyes seemed to fix on a spot in the distance, "Jim? Spock? You came." Then, peacefully, he closed his eyes and slipped into the final rest. Leaving me behind, holding both his hand and the letter, crying.

                After I was finished crying, I remembered to take his journals out of the bedside stand before I left. When I got home, I read the letter. It was dated yesterday.

_Dear Matt,_

_                After I heard that Spock died, I knew my time would come soon. If I have any regrets, it is leaving you behind. You always wanted to know what it was that kept me alive. Various doctors want to know, but as it is not based in current medical belief, yes I said belief, I did not tell them._

_                I know your grandfather has told you about when he saw Spock and I sitting in the park. Well, that promise has kept me alive. Some of it was our old rivalry, but most of it was the promise. I couldn't die and leave Spock alone. People in the past knew that a desire to live could lengthen life, but people today do not believe it is possible._

_                You will be getting a call from a lawyer about my will soon, but I want to tell you now. You inherit every thing in my residence, and half of my money, the rest going to charities and research grants. The house is to be sold and anything you don't want from it is to be auctioned off. Again, as before you get half of the proceedings, while the other half goes to the various organizations. I give those vultures who call themselves grandchildren nothing._

_                By now, you are probably asking why me of all my relatives. The answer is plain and simple. You cared about **me**, the person, not the inheritance you could get. If there was any thought of inheriting, it was some object to remind you of me. For that reason, I give you my journals, since you always wanted to hear about the people and what happened. The journals start when I was a med student and end today, giving you a good idea of what happened, before, during, and after._

_                As a certain Vulcan said to me, live long and prosper,_

_                                                                                                Leonard Horatio McCoy_

                Matt smiled through the tears which threatened to come again. He hadn't forgotten. He whispered, "To the old friends who are now reunited."

_Old friends, memory brushes the same years,_

_Silently sharing the same fears._


End file.
